One Less Meow to Answer

This week I must say goodbye to a part of our family.  Yes, she's just a cat. But she's been a part of the family for longer than the children.

We adopted Katzchen from an acquaintance's front porch in the early years of our marriage.  This poor little creature, too young to leave her mother, was terrified to join our little family.  She was alternately ignored by and hissed at from our other cat.  We laughed at her from the beginning.  She got so exhausted adjusting to us the first day that she fell asleep standing up with her paw in the air.  She soon became our happy lap cat.  The other cat avoided us or not depending on mood, but Katzchen always wanted to be with us.  She and I  bonded over a mutual affection for Pop Tarts and Spaghettios.  Then there was the time she cornered the mouse in my shoe in our basement apartment.   Nope, this cat wouldn't consider a mouse food, merely a plaything.  It wasn't until we brought another little being into our home that Katzchen's true wonderfulness came out.  When Becky (as she was then) cried, the other cat hid under the couch.  Katzchen came to fetch us.  She looked at us as if to say, "Hello, people, the kitten is crying. Get moving."  On the evenings that we tried to get the baby to fall asleep on her own (who was that idiot child expert who thought that was a good idea?), Katzchen would stand outside the bedroom door and stare at us.  There was no enjoying whatever we were trying to do while Becky cried (as if), with the babysitter on duty.  In fact, Katzchen still does this.  If someone is upset, she comes to get us.

Katzchen has been relatively flexible with the other additions to the family.  Baby #2 was accepted without question, although she wasn't as tolerant of the racket.  The kittens were not met with such favor.  She was pretty irritated when Trouble joined us- since he's such a pain in the butt, I can't help but agree with her opinion on that.  She learned to ignore him.  When Trampoline entered the picture, she gave us a look like "not again".  Since Trouble and Tramp entertained each other pretty well in those days, she was happy enough to retain the laps and lose the youngun attention. 

Several years ago, Katzchen was the beneficiary of an over-priced cancer removal surgery.  (What were we thinking?)  The funniest thing about that was the cone she had to wear on her head, which really irritated her and scared the heck out of Trouble.  It was pretty amusing to watch him skeedaddle when he saw her or heard the plastic scraping some random surface.  Then a couple years after that, the most expensive veterinarian in State College, clued us in that she was at risk for kidney failure.  We tried to take care of her with the special food.  Three cats sharing the same food bowl made that an expensive endeavor that we eventually gave up on.  Ignoring this issue worked out well for us for a long time. Probably not so much for her.

Alas, we can ignore this no longer.  Katzchen is clearly very sick and very old.  Her soft coat is icky.  The cat who used to be able to jump from the floor to the top of the entertainment center now has trouble climbing up a chair or on the bed.  Her eyesight is going.  A few weeks ago she fell down an entire flight of wooden stairs.   She's always been a big yakker, but lately it's much worse.  And clearly it exhausts her.  Today she yakked, tried to walk and fell down.  So, the thought that has been in the back of my mind for months is now in the front of my mind.

So. On Friday, when the kids are home from school, we'll be taking our beloved and wonderful cat to a place that will end with cat heaven.  I know she has forgiven us for everything we have done to her.  Nonetheless, we will pamper this cat as much as we can this week.  She deserves all of the tuna in the store (her favorite thing on earth- besides us perhaps), lots of petting and chin scratching, bowls of milk. Her last car trip (her least favorite thing on earth, besides moving) will be traveling in style in her favorite blanket with her head peeking out as she cries, "what the heck are you doing to me now?" in that disapproving old cat voice.  We will miss that crotchety rarr. 

Many apologies to my friends who have suffered real loss.

Lost and Found

Life is not always fun.  This is a fact. 

The worst time in my life ever was not that long ago.  For about two years, maybe a little less, I was in a pit.  I was desperately unhappy with everything in my life.  I kept my family so busy with activities, I couldn't find us.  I felt obligated to prove that I was worth holding space on earth by volunteering for everything.  I hated all of it.  I got so angry with the piano teacher for running late that I switched piano teachers (and made the kid unhappy with piano).  I was angry with the kids.  At summer swim team (which is so much fun), I was angry that Rebecca wouldn't swim faster to the point that a good friend told me to lighten up.  I quit the things that were fun for me to make my life "easier."  The bell choir director said, "Are you sure?"  My best friend had moved away, and I couldn't talk to her it hurt so badly. I cried all the time. My eldest daughter walked on eggshells around me.  I could see in her eyes that she was scared.  I just stopped being me.  My lighten up friend guided me to the realization that I was depressed.  That was a step in the right direction.

On my birthday, my parents came to see Rebecca sing in church with her choir and to take us out to lunch.  This doesn't happen much, so it was a big deal.  The minister started preaching about joy and I cried.  I couldn't stop crying.  We didn't go to lunch.  I celebrated my birthday with uncontrollable tears.  I went to the doctor the next day and (cried uncontrollably) began my foray into happiness through mood-altering drugs.  It helped.  The way a tylenol takes the edge off a bad headache.  I didn't cry all the time, but I didn't feel much of anything or think much of anything.  I wasn't that psycho, but I wasn't me.

I talked to a counselor who clued me in that I'm my own worst critic.  And from talking with girl friends, this seems to be a common thing with women.  My expectations were so high for myself that I could never dream of living up to them.  And I didn't - live up to them that is.  I tried to.  I tried to give my kids their fabulous birthday parties at Christmastime.  I didn't cook because I couldn't cook anything worth eating in my opinion.  I stopped cleaning, because frankly I suck at cleaning.  I was a substitute teacher at the time and was terrified of sitting in the faculty room because I stink at small talk.  Through many, many counseling sessions (where I ... cried, of course), I finally was released from my own expectations.   So I became a more reasonable human being, but still not myself.

Last Christmas, I started playing.  I started having outrageous conversations on Facebook.  We went to our friends' house for dinner and games and I cranked up the silly.  Santa gave us a Wii (by the way, can someone please out Santa to my almost 10-year-old?).  We spent New Year's Eve with our good friends in Pittsburgh, where we discovered that we had to have Band Hero for the Wii.  I made a conscious decision- call it a New Year's Resolution if you need to- to play regularly.  I started dancing with my kids to fun music like Lady Gaga.  I remembered how amusing word play is to me.  I have some friends who can pun with the big dogs.  I went to Games Night religiously and let my silly, competitive self run wild and free (and amused people by singing along with the radio.)  I discovered the play in cooking as I created theme dinners of immense magnitude (and calories) and expense.  Along the way, I lost the need for counseling and for chemicals.

What I found was laughter and lots of it.  I found a beautiful relationship with my daughters, who once again have a mother who is sane, sometimes patient, sometimes inappropriate, mostly happy.  I rediscovered my amazing husband, always there for me, but now enjoying some benefits instead of just worry.  I've made new friends who share my optimism and love of fun and don't seem to mind if I'm not always contributing to the conversation.  With my new attitude and confidence, I got hired for the best job I have ever had in my life, spending a very fast-moving, brief workday with a wonderful teacher and hilarious and charming children.  I've even turned lousy housekeeping into a theme for a soiree. 

So, yea, life isn't always fun.  But it is way easier to take the rough spots with a play-full frame of mind.

Nut Farm Camping

Camping. You have to love this family activity.  It's such an opportunity for a family to bond, to become closer, to test their mettle in the great outdoors, to torture surrounding campers.

The first time we went camping as a family, we went up to Wellsboro, PA- the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon.   Ok, so first thing to know, don't leave the hotdogs on the kitchen counter at home.  Second thing to know, rustic camping means no showers and peeing in a bucket with walls.  Third thing to know, don't take any one under the age of 14.  Fourth thing to know, it gets cold at night in October.  So we did this family bonding event when Katie was maybe 9 months old, Rebecca under 5 apparently.  If you've ever heard of the PA Grand Canyon, you were probably told to go on the wagon ride through the canyon valley to see the fall colors.  Yup, we did that.  However, we took those kids with us.  We didn't know it was a loooonnnggg ride, so no diaper bag for us.  Well, Katie (who had her own theme song in those days... woah, oh,  Katie's crying- to the tune of "Janie's crying") cried, wailed, moaned, carried on for the entire 50 hour (minute) ride out to wherever the heck we were going.  Nothing would make this child happy. Ok, one thing would make her happy.  Spewing.  All over her clothes and the wagon.  When the wagon stopped for the sight-seeing and turnaround, I actually threw her clothes down the hill, they were so foul.  Remember that I had no diaper bag (what the heck was I thinking?)  So, the previously wailing child is now... NAKED, but sleeping. I wouldn't be surprised if that wagon load of people demanded their money back- I would have!  And did I mention our campground had no running water?

The second time we went camping was almost a year later.  We were much better prepared.  We'd heard of this fabulous campground in Niagara Falls, Canada.  Off we went.  Relatively uneventful car ride.  Niagara Falls is gorgeous, of course.  The campground is great.  It had activities.  It had a pool.  It had showers.  Everything is fine.  Until that first night of camping in the tent, when we discovered our camp site was 25 feet away from very active train tracks, with lots of trains in the night time.  Lots of them.  And then we had neighbors.  Neighbors without small children.  Neighbors who stayed up late.  Neighbors who then were awakened early by our children who have never thought sleeping was a worthwhile activity.  By the 3rd morning, we could hear the neighbors imitating the whinefest.  It was actually pretty hysterical to hear these grown-ups with their prize-winning whining.

Were we done with camping?  Heck no!  We camped at least once a summer every year but this one.  Most of the time it was fun, uneventful, once you get past the fact that it always seems to rain before we get the tent up and therefore we spend the entire weekend trying to get dry again.  

The next camping fiasco involved our favorite place in the universe, Long Beach Island.  We decided that camping off island would be the ideal way to make this fabulous vacation a little less pricey.  So we camped at the worst campground in the history of campgrounds.  Our campsite was just big enough for a tent and a car, which was actually ok because we didn't spend any time there anyhow.  The problem?  Beach sand everywhere.  I think we still have some of it in the tent.  The other problem?  It rained all week off island- not on the island, mind you, the weather was fine there.  Every day it rained.  When it wasn't raining, the man-eating mosquitoes came out.  The hike to the showers, pool, toilets was about a mile- a treacherous mile guaranteed to result in malaria or at least some itching. Somehow the name of this campground, Baker's Acres, conjures up a homey, pleasant environment.  We know better.

Do we hate camping?  Surprisingly, no.  We've had many fun adventures at campgrounds. We've cabin camped for New Year's Eve several times.  We celebrated my birthday in a cabin one year.   We're especially fond of camping with other families.  I'm partial to my Princess and the Pea blow up mattress.

never can say goodbye

Here I am again at that uncomfortable place of having just finished a series of books.  I hate it when I'm supposed to say goodbye to a character that is such a part of my life.  The newest character, Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins, has insinuated her sarcastic, true, seemingly unfriendly self into my life.  I've been a little cranky for a couple days now as I saw the end of her saga looming- not at all sure that I wanted to find it.  This was a combination of not being sure that I was going to like the ending and not wanting to have it end.  I love Katniss.  She is powerful, yet unaware of that power.  She's strong, yet feels weak.  She doesn't like to be anyone's pawn.   As I turned the last page, I cried.  Actually I cried through the last 50 pages at least.  And it's been a long three hours since I finished that I feel like I might actually be able to get past this feeling and live my life again.

The other truly painful time of finishing a series was Harry Potter, of course.  I read through the first few books myself eons ago.  The Order of the Phoenix kind of did me in for a while.  Then one summer I started to read them aloud to Rebecca.  We got so hooked together.  We'd finish one and then immediately start the next.  As I read to her, I realized how well constructed these books are and how sometimes books are well worth rereading.  I completely immersed us both in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's lives.  Then we arrived at the books I hadn't read or remembered very well, and I was on the edge of my seat right along with Rebecca.  We lived and breathed Harry Potter for months.  We listened as the unspeakable happened, argued about whys and whens.  It was so hard to start Deathly Hallows.  But it sucked us in too.  And we read, often past bedtime, because we both had to know.    Then one horrible afternoon in December, we read the last word.  The two of us just sat there, stunned that we were done.  That there was no more to know, experience, feel.  How could this story be done? This story that had been an integral part of our lives for months.  We were empty.

Of course there are other stories that captured my attention.  I'll admit I inhaled Twilight.  In fact Rebecca and I fought over who got to read the last book first.  I was somewhat embarrassed about how I enjoyed them.  But honestly Bella, Jacob and Edward are just not the same kind of characters.  I didn't  miss them as much.  I read for the storyline or whatever and I don't mind the Edward sparkles (as I know many people do mind.)  I liked the ending, but I don't think there were tears and emptiness.  I did read the Golden Compass series and liked Lyra very much.  I think maybe she was a part of my life as well, but her story got a little weird by the third book.  So her story ending was less enjoyable, and I finished just to see how it wrapped up.

In any case, here I am with no more Katniss, Gale and Peeta.  But...  Katie and I are reading Harry Potter now.  In fact, as soon as she finishes washing her hair, we'll be reading a little more about Gilderoy Lockhart (my absolute favorite Hogwarts teacher.)